“No!” Erandur cried. Damn her, why did she have to do this to him, interrupting his lonely penance, bringing love back into his life after so long, the first one to touch him intimately, the only one, Aranea Ienith who'd taken in and counselled even a Vaermina cultist who'd left his friends to die... and who still thought he was worth something. The sad thing was, he adored her still. It wasn't just lust, never really had been. She'd sent him towards Mara, and Erandur had gone willingly, needing love and forgiveness in his life... but he'd never really felt forgiven. Mara might have forgiven him but he'd yet to forgive himself. Mara couldn't be wrong, of course, but maybe he'd not entirely understood her will.
“Then why are you still fighting your feelings?” Aranea whispered, stroking his cheek, and Erandur could feel his cock hardening and his heart pounding, and he felt himself blushing. They needed to stop this, he needed to stop this, but it had been so long and he'd been so lonely and...
“You can't love me,” he whispered.
“Can't I,” Aranea said gently. “Why not.”
“Why would you?” Erandur whispered, decades of pain and shame and guilt threatening to overwhelm him. He didn't deserve Aranea – he didn't deserve to be happy. Not after all he'd done.
“You should perhaps be asking Mara that question,” Aranea said, tracing her fingers over his lips. “She's the goddess of love after all.”
Perhaps he should, but he wasn't sure he'd get any kind of answer. He mostly just wanted to know why. Why Lady Mara would allow him to have feelings for someone when he manifestly didn't deserve them.
“Please,” Erandur pleaded. “Stop pushing me. I can't give you what you want. What you need. What you deserve.”
“What do I deserve?” Aranea asked quietly. “You tell me if you know me so well.”
“To be happy,” Erandur said, unable to meet her eyes, staring at out at the tents and the torchlight and the sight of the Forsworn dancing in between them, singing and laughing with happy couples chasing each other. A happiness he didn't deserve and would likely never have again. “With someone who can love you like you should be.”
“Can't that be you?” Aranea asked, despairing.
“I can't,” Erandur whispered, feeling his throat tighten as it all threatened to overwhelm him – her, the sounds of the camp, all of it. He could sense that something was wrong somehow, but damned if he knew what or how to fix it.
“Erandur,” Aranea whispered, reaching out to him, and he could take no more. Not daring to look back, Erandur fled for the safety of his tent, where he could be alone and meditate on Lady Mara's Divine Benevolence in peace.
Leaving Aranea Ienith behind him, cursing quietly and wishing Lady Azura was still sending visions. Erandur who had been Casimir was a very frustrating man. How ironic – he'd not wanted to go when she sent him away all those years ago. But Azura had sent visions of him serving Mara, sent visions to them both, and in the end, Aranea had feared Vaermina's nightmares and Azura's visions were going to drive him mad. So she'd sent him away for his own sake.
Now here he was, back in her life but still damaged, healed from the nightmares and the visions long gone, but still haunted. A devotee of the goddess of love afraid to experience his own goddess's blessings. How deeply ironic.
Silence from Azura, and praying to Mara hadn't helped either. All Aranea could do was let him go and hope he'd realise for himself what he needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I should go back to my tent. It's getting late.”
“Don't let me stop you.”
“Right. I'll be going then.”
Madanach took another sip of his jenever and counted quietly to five, having seen the pile of mead bottles that had been building up next to the Dragon-Queen and wondered if dragon blood actually gave you resistance to alcohol.
Apparently not, because Elisif got to her feet, swayed rather unsteadily, staggered a few steps off to her left, got about three feet then sank to her knees.
“Madanach?”
He was fairly certain Dragonborns weren't supposed to sound that plaintive.
“What?” he called back, repressing a smirk.
“Which tent's mine? I – I don't remember... they all look the same.”
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 29.8
“Then why are you still fighting your feelings?” Aranea whispered, stroking his cheek, and Erandur could feel his cock hardening and his heart pounding, and he felt himself blushing. They needed to stop this, he needed to stop this, but it had been so long and he'd been so lonely and...
“You can't love me,” he whispered.
“Can't I,” Aranea said gently. “Why not.”
“Why would you?” Erandur whispered, decades of pain and shame and guilt threatening to overwhelm him. He didn't deserve Aranea – he didn't deserve to be happy. Not after all he'd done.
“You should perhaps be asking Mara that question,” Aranea said, tracing her fingers over his lips. “She's the goddess of love after all.”
Perhaps he should, but he wasn't sure he'd get any kind of answer. He mostly just wanted to know why. Why Lady Mara would allow him to have feelings for someone when he manifestly didn't deserve them.
“Please,” Erandur pleaded. “Stop pushing me. I can't give you what you want. What you need. What you deserve.”
“What do I deserve?” Aranea asked quietly. “You tell me if you know me so well.”
“To be happy,” Erandur said, unable to meet her eyes, staring at out at the tents and the torchlight and the sight of the Forsworn dancing in between them, singing and laughing with happy couples chasing each other. A happiness he didn't deserve and would likely never have again. “With someone who can love you like you should be.”
“Can't that be you?” Aranea asked, despairing.
“I can't,” Erandur whispered, feeling his throat tighten as it all threatened to overwhelm him – her, the sounds of the camp, all of it. He could sense that something was wrong somehow, but damned if he knew what or how to fix it.
“Erandur,” Aranea whispered, reaching out to him, and he could take no more. Not daring to look back, Erandur fled for the safety of his tent, where he could be alone and meditate on Lady Mara's Divine Benevolence in peace.
Leaving Aranea Ienith behind him, cursing quietly and wishing Lady Azura was still sending visions. Erandur who had been Casimir was a very frustrating man. How ironic – he'd not wanted to go when she sent him away all those years ago. But Azura had sent visions of him serving Mara, sent visions to them both, and in the end, Aranea had feared Vaermina's nightmares and Azura's visions were going to drive him mad. So she'd sent him away for his own sake.
Now here he was, back in her life but still damaged, healed from the nightmares and the visions long gone, but still haunted. A devotee of the goddess of love afraid to experience his own goddess's blessings. How deeply ironic.
Silence from Azura, and praying to Mara hadn't helped either. All Aranea could do was let him go and hope he'd realise for himself what he needed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I should go back to my tent. It's getting late.”
“Don't let me stop you.”
“Right. I'll be going then.”
Madanach took another sip of his jenever and counted quietly to five, having seen the pile of mead bottles that had been building up next to the Dragon-Queen and wondered if dragon blood actually gave you resistance to alcohol.
Apparently not, because Elisif got to her feet, swayed rather unsteadily, staggered a few steps off to her left, got about three feet then sank to her knees.
“Madanach?”
He was fairly certain Dragonborns weren't supposed to sound that plaintive.
“What?” he called back, repressing a smirk.
“Which tent's mine? I – I don't remember... they all look the same.”